I make this vow freely and upon my honor

Some of my favorite moments during Orientation (which ends tomorrow) thus far have been little, seemingly insignificant things.
Monday night I saw the statue of liberty up close for the first time. It was an awe inspiring few minutes. Looking upwards from the boat, with my mouth slightly agape, I couldn't help but feel inspired. The hand held aloft, the many folds of her robe, the seven pointed crown and the sheer enormity of the statue combined to reduce me to a revered silence. There was no way to capture that moment, nor would a picture have done it justice.
My white coat ceremony was a small affair, with parents, friends and significant others invited. We were seated alphabetically and after a short speech, were called down to the front in fours where faculty helped us into our coats.
Right before we walked down, the dean of the College read to us the WCMC version of the Hippocratic Oath. I found myself thinking about how sacrificing the calling of medicine is and how, right at the very beginning, we are expected to lay aside our personal differences, in order to learn to serve patients with selflessness and humilty.
Especially thought provoking was the last line of the oath, 'I make this vow freely and upon my honor.' I was not coerced, or sweet talked into applying to medical school. I decided on this career because of my interest in learning about the body and a desire to be of service to others in need. Every action I make during the next four years of medical school must be done with this goal in mind. And in order to keep this in mind, I must not forget people.
I have hope that learning to be my best, whether it be from my classmates or admitting my mistakes, rather than ignoring everything save my grades or position in class will be my main strength.

New time, new direction.

I was on the phone with my Mom a day or so ago, excitedly telling her about the short white coat I recently aquired at the Student Affairs office. With the coat came free medical advice/inspiration in the form of a book titled 'On Doctoring' and information on Orientation week which starts on the 25th. She suggested that I remember these few days before the start of medical school. I think this is excellent advice.
In a few weeks, when I am bogged down with how much studying I have to do, how there is so much minute detail to be committed to memory and when I am questioning why I would subject myself to such torment, I can read this post.
Yes, I am a lowly MS0 (a term recently gleaned from many odd-hours spent reading through Student Doctor Network medicine forums and medical blogs) but I can't help it. I am incredibly excited. I cannot wait until the first day of class. I cannot wait to meet my new classmates. I am psyched and I am pumped - just writing about it has caused a huge grin to appear on my face. I can't help but feel I have been waiting and preparing a long time for this moment.
That said, I know medical school will be tons of work and discipline. I know that I will often be stressed and impatient with myself. This is part of the reason I chose WCMC, because it has a reputation for being laid back and less stressful than the average medical school. (Cross your fingers).
So...in the interim, I will continue to be delighted when I find a new medical student/resident blog. Although I have restrained myself from reading through my Undergrad biology text books, I am severely tempted. I am relaxing as though there is no tomorrow.

Christ brings me sunshine in winter

In Grade 11, a few weeks after prefects were selected, my classmate died. We had been friends on and off when we were younger, and sometimes studied for the Grade 7 exams together, but as we got older, we drifted apart into different circles of friends and became acquaintances at best.
She got sick and I, like the other people in my class, thought nothing of it when she did not come to prep that night. She was just one more person who had the misfortune to get malaria. We all assumed she would get better. And she did get better, at least - for a short while.
I passed her in the corridors, a Friday, as I made my way to supper. She had just taken a shower and was walking to her room where she was a prefect in charge of 10 girls. She was wrapped in the brown towel she always used. I glanced at her, wondering if I should offer to get her supper. Instead, I asked if she was feeling better. I can't remember what she said, but I know she smiled. I smiled back and that was that.
I wonder now, if something extraordinary inspired me with that moment of altruism. I wonder now, if it would have made a difference had I offered what I intended. What parallel universe would I be in now? Would I, in just three short weeks be starting medical school? Would she be dead?
She swam in the school swimming team, was cute, bubbly, short. A popular girl with popular friends. She was light skinned, paid attention in class and got good grades. My mother knew her mother.
I was sitting on my bed one night, when a day scholar spoke into the window, giving all of us in the room a fright. "[B.....] is dead, you guys". I stared stupidly at the window. She had just gone home that weekend. I had seen her, smiled at her two days ago. But it was true.
That week we had a memorial service for her. I sat in the hall, thinking about the nature of death, the fragility of life for the first time. Just like that. She was dead. I kept thinking, I saw her on Friday, smiled at her. I saw her.
I thought of her parents, having lost their only daughter. I thought of her brothers, having lost their only sister. She was only 15. Yet, her life was over. In days, she would be buried and there would be no more [B.....]. In a few years, she would be reduced to bones in an uncaring earth. I couldn't get over the finality, the suddeness of what had happened. Even now, it makes my heat skip a beat.
At the funeral, I saw her in her coffin and for the first time I cried. She was laying there, in her makeup, in her church dress with her eyes closed. She could have been sleeping. Her mother was there, crying. I wanted to say something, but could not find the right words. It was so unfair. So unforseen. Whenever I remember the song we sang on the bus there, I grow cold.
I think of her mother now, 6 years later. Does she grieve? How could she possibly have gotten through such a time?
I think of [B....]. What would she be doing right now? Where would she be?
I remember singing on the bus. I can only remember that one line, "Christ brings me sunshine in winter".
I remember her.

Yes, I'll have the Terry Pratchett with a side of Tolkien, please.

I just got done reading Stone of Tears (again), the second book of what is now an eleven part series called the Sword of Truth by Terry Goodkind. For those of you who are ignorant in these matters, I urge you - proceed to your nearest bookstore and purchase Wizard's First Rule. If you are unsatistfied with the contents, I will refund you the full price of the book, no questions asked.*
This renewed desire to read all things fantastical and magic was born after July 21st, (which I am sure you know to be Harry Potter Day) when I consumed Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. What should I read next? I am left with a lingering desire to immerse myself in lands filled with mythical beasts and the continued battle of good versus evil (may the good spirits protect us). Perhaps I will go ahead and buy Blood of the Fold (again) after having left most of the books half way across the world.
Or should I venture forth into unknown territory in order to feed the beast within? I do not wish to be disappointed...the buying of an atrocious book is a grave error that cannot be undone.
Perhaps a little science fiction (can you say Asimov?) to whet the palate. Maybe a short foray into the Dark Tower series for a little comfort-read. Then a sweet treat of a Discworld novel. So many books, so little time...

I need something to read. Something new.


*Let it be known that the above mentioned statement is null and void. deadrocketcow will not be responsible for any claim or request of refund be it in money, store credit, or objects of equivalent or lesser value. Sucker!